"Really babe, it's not that big of a deal." Stacy continued to plead with her husband from the bedroom. He finished his lunch in their small apartment kitchen as she toweled off her long black hair after her shower. "I'm not participating in the party. I'm just there as a favor to Jane to serve drinks and finger sandwiches and such."
Don had finished his sandwich and walked into the bedroom to continue the argument with his wife. As he entered the room, even though irritated, he couldn't help but admire the sight of the back of his wife's toned legs rising up to disappear into a loose pair of grey cotton shorts as she was bent over wrapping a towel about her hair.
The shorts were exactly that, short, revealing the tender rounded curves of the bottom part of her, well . . . bottom. The loose fitting white t-shirt she had put on was hanging open as she was bent over at the waist, facing away from him, showing the underside of her breasts. He paused there for a second, momentarily distracted by the shape of his wife of four years, wishing he weren't aggravated right now. Wishing he didn't have to go back to work soon.
She straightened and noticed him in the room, turning to face him. "Really Don, It's like you don't trust me." She couldn't totally blame him for being a little upset. Her friend Jane had just informed her today that two of the girls she was going to hire to help serve at the costume party she was having that evening were not able to come.
Stacy had known Jane since college. She and Don had met at one of her parties almost 5 years ago and had been to a few since. Jane's parties, they both knew, could be a little much. Single men and women commonly paired up and disappeared into back rooms. Fairly often, married or not, women would succumb to the influence of alcohol and cheering onlookers to shed articles of clothing, flirt with random party-goers, dance on a table, etc.
"It's not that I don't trust you," Don stated. "I don't trust the guys at the party to know you're not on the menu."
"I can let them know that. And besides, that's also what this is for." She said this as she held out her hand, the back toward her husband, showing the diamond ring in place on her finger.
He had sat in the chair next to his dresser, crossing his arms in a gesture of stubbornness he demonstrated when he thought he was tight about something and someone else could not sensibly see the logic in his argument.
"That isn't something that stops a lot of them." Don said dismissingly. "Some of the worst behaved ones we've seen there are married."
The look on her face was one of slight exasperation. The one she got when he went on about something she thought unnecessary. His frustration was mounting and for many reasons. He had planned on taking her out to dinner that evening and didn't like unexpected changes. However, he couldn't really fault Stacy for that, or her friend, since it was going to be a surprise.
Another reason for his frustration was the outfit that her friend was having the servers wear was rather risqué. The so-called, "Tavern Witch's outfit (a clever play on tavern wench) that currently hung on a hanger on her closet door, looked like a cross between a dominatrix outfit and lacy black lingerie.
His more immediate frustration though, was the white shirt she had put on was a rather thin material. As she stood before him, her arms stretched up to her head to fidget with the towel. Her soft, full, c-cup breasts were pushed out against the material making the dark, half-dollar sized circles around each of her nipples easy to see.
The conflicting emotions of arguing with his wife and at the same time wanting to push her back onto the bed to enjoy some "dessert" was frustrating because he had to return to work soon and didn't have the time to follow through on either one to the outcome he would like.
Stacy noticed Don looking at her. They had never had any problems in the area of mutual attraction but lately it seemed like they had fallen off a little because of Don's increased hours at work. It just seemed like they weren't as passionate as they had been. She understood though. She knew the overtime at work and the stress of their current project were taking a toll on Don. He was often tired and since she had been out of work for the past few months they had both been a little stressed over the finances.
Getting paid was the initial reason she agreed to work Jane's party but now she was thinking maybe she agreed out of the need for a little excitement, the need to feel sexy and, maybe, to feel wanted. Stacy started to feel a little guilty.
"I wouldn't even be going to the party if it weren't for the money Don." This she said for herself as much for him.
They could use a little extra here and there he knew, but this was a little beyond what he had in mind.
"We should have plenty once my bonus comes in after this project. It's just taking longer than we thought."
He tried again to talk her out of it but somehow suspected now that she actually wanted to go for other reasons. He had reached a breaking point.
"Fine, do what you want. You don't care what I think. Dress like a whore and flaunt yourself, but don't try to tell me you're only doing it for the money." With that he got up and walked to the door. "I'll probably be late again but at least you won't be here alone and bored tonight."
He shut the door behind him.
Stacy stood there for a minute, mouth half open in an attempt to say something she couldn't quite fully form in her brain. There had been a lot said and not said. Her thoughts and emotions on the matter were like the clothes tumbling in the dryer one room away.
She looked over at the sexy black outfit hanging from the closet door and wondered if going would be a mistake but also wanted to go out of anger at what Don just said. She was taking out the wig Jane had given her to wear as part of the look when she heard the door open. Thinking Don had come back to apologize for what he said, she hurried to the living room and saw that it was just her friend Connie. Stacy's face must have given away her disappointment.
"Stacy, what's the matter?" Connie said, shutting the door.
"Oh, Don is upset about me going to Jane's party."Stacy hung her head as she sat on the sofa.
Connie put down the bag she was holding and went to comfort her friend who had seemed on the edge of tears. "You did tell him that Jane wouldn't have asked if she didn't really need help. Besides, you're also getting paid." Connie's arm around Stacy gave her a little shake trying to get some like back into her friend.
"I know," Stacy said, "but that doesn't seem to matter to him. He's upset about me going to the party alone. More upset that I don't mind going without him."
"He probably doesn't care for you being dressed so sexy without him being there either I imagine."
"Oh I don't know, I think I could be dressed like a nun and he still wouldn't want me to go." Stacy said as a tear ran down her cheek..
"It sounds like he has some dependency and trust issues if you ask me." Connie said, turning Stacy's face to look at her, wiping away the rail of a tear. "Or he's just being an ass."
